


Warm

by rathernotmyname



Series: Fictober! 2020 [22]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Elliot Likes Himself Some Stoops To Sit On, Elliot is Okay, Fictober! Day 22, Gen, Rest and relaxation, Walking the dog, and clumsy, for dog and human because they deserve it, takes place some time in s1, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28088172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rathernotmyname/pseuds/rathernotmyname
Summary: Elliot and Flipper go on a walk.Or:Some peace and quiet for the both of them before shit goes down in season 1.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson & Flipper
Series: Fictober! 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050200
Kudos: 6





	Warm

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING HOSTED OR REPOSTED ON ANY UNOFFICIAL APPS OR WEBSITES OTHER THAN ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN WITHOUT MY APPROVAL, PARTICULARLY APPS WITH AD REVENUE AND SUBSCRIPTION SERVICES.

The middle part of the dog leash scraped the floor, held laxly in a hand that was buried in the pocket of a black hoodie.

Flipper took it as an invitation to explore her environment a little more thoroughly than usually, sniffing at leaves, benches and trash cans. She effortlessly avoided strangers without looking, as if she knew exactly how much the human at the other end of the leash hated having to speak to them when they somehow got entangled.

She stood still for a moment, waiting for said human to shuffle closer, his mind far away and one of his shoelaces open.

Before Flipper could set his attention on the laces, Elliot stepped on them and crashed to the ground in an ungainly heap. 

Flipper yipped and walked closer, sitting down where Elliot’s face had hit the concrete.

“Fuck,” Elliot said, head lifting and hand shooting out to examine Flipper for injuries. “Did I fall on you? I’m sorry.”

Flipper wagged her tail and licked his hand. (He had not, but it was hard to tell him that when one was a dog.)

Lucky for both of them, the alley they were in was empty, nobody came up to them or tried to help. Elliot 'tsk’ed about the new rip in his jeans and tied his shoelaces extra-tightly, and then they continued with the walk.

The air was remarkably clear for a Saturday in late August, and the route Flipper chose was mostly offside any main roads, leaving the stress and noise of the perpetual traffic behind. 

A sudden gust of warm wind ripped Elliot’s hood down and disheveled his short hair, which was long enough again to curl at the ends. Flipper liked the curls. They looked so similar to her fur. Elliot felt surprisingly at ease. He pulled back the hand that was reaching for his hood, instead tugging at the short strands to bring them back into order.

They arrived at a tiny square, only 50 feet wide into every direction and tinted orange in the evening sun. It was used as a marketplace on Sundays, but for now it remained deserted, the air still and thick between the stucco’d houses. 

The restricted air flow made the heat build up; Elliot started to sweat. After a long, exploratory look around the hoodie came off, slung over the arm that was still tangled around Flipper’s leash. 

He knelt down and unclasped it from her collar, then he sat down on a flight of stairs and leaned against the warm, rugged wall behind him.

Flipper waggled to the next tree and shat into the grass. 

Elliot sighed and took out a plastic bag, scooped Flipper’s business up and threw it into the next trash can. As he returned to his chosen spot on the stairs before some rich bastard’s house, Flipper skipped around the small square, sniffing at every stone and barked at a few figurines. 

Finally, the heat became too much; her black fur was just as unhelpful as Elliot’s all-black attire in that matter. She trotted back to him, small pink tongue hanging out of her mouth, and plopped down into the shade next to the stairs. 

Elliot took the water bottle he’d brought in a rare occasion of foresight, opening the cap and dribbling a little on the ground before Flipper’s nose. Flipper’s head whipped up, wagging tail increasing in speed, and jumped onto her back legs to catch the stream flowing from the bottle. 

It was a game they were very practiced in, since Flipper was too lazy to drink out of her water bowl sometimes. Elliot had started with holding her beneath the shower head, and after Flipper figured out how to drink water that came from above without spilling it and making a mess, it became her favorite way to stay hydrated and a funny game that Elliot enjoyed playing, always happy to see Flipper absolutely ecstatic from joy because of something he did. 

It did wonders for his self-confidence.

It also meant that she went absolutely crazy when it rained, but every upside had a downside, right?

As soon as they had emptied the water bottle, effectively sharing its content, Flipper hopped up the stairs like a bunny, resting her little head in Elliot’s lap and staring up at him with her round, dark eyes.

“If I could beg as well as you, I’d never have to work again in my entire life,” Elliot mumbled affectionately and started to stroke and scratch Flipper’s head, ears and chin. Flipper sighed and seemed to transform into a rubber dog under his hands, front legs sliding over the ground until she was lying on her belly, legs stretched out into all four directions, tail wagging so fast that it was just a black blur.

“Yo,” Elliot giggled when Flipper sighed again, a long, deep, doggy sigh that spoke of pure and utter pleasure. “Hey man. I’m not gonna carry you home, so don’t fall asleep on me.”

Flipper turned her head a little and licked his fingers, and then dropped her head back on Elliot’s lap, slobbering on his knees. 

“Gross, Flipper.” Elliot grimaced but didn’t move away, instead moving one hand to scratch Flipper’s side. 

It had the desired effect: Flipper began to wiggle and turned onto her back with a little ‘woof’ of exertion. 

Elliot began to scratch her belly, discreetly wiped the slobber from his jeans and leaned back into the sun-warmed wall, the last few beams of the dying evening sun catching his face. 

Tomorrow he would return to the arcade, but a little ‘time-out’ from everything was… nice. Unexpected, but nice. 

Stealing a dog had been one of the best decisions in his life. Maybe he should write a life consulting book.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so damn soft. I needed this, and Elliot and Flipper definitely needed it, too.  
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
